


we can live like jack and sally if we want

by embellished



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embellished/pseuds/embellished
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb tricks Theon into coming with him when he takes Bran, Rickon and Arya out trick-or-treating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can live like jack and sally if we want

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://mockyrfears.livejournal.com/5384.html?thread=789256#t789256) for mockyrfears's Halloween ficathon.

The minute Robb opens the door, Theon knows he’s in trouble.

He blinks hard, hoping his eyes deceive him – but no. When he looks again Robb is still wearing what Theon was afraid he was wearing. Black jeans, black shoes, black-and-red T-shirt that looks awfully like the one Theon thought he’d lost several weeks ago. That’s not the problem though.

The problem is the cape.

“Robb,” Theon says slowly, “why are you dressed like Dracula?”

At least Robb has the grace to look guilty. “I’m sorry. I have to take Arya, Bran and Rickon trick-or-treating.”

Theon just stares. Robb’s hair is carefully styled, his messy curls combed forward into a widow’s peak, and Theon’s almost sure he’s even wearing eye make-up. “But,” he protests, not quite ready to accept what Robb is saying, “but you sent me a text. It said to come over for candy and blowjobs.”

“I know,” Robb’s eyes are wide and blue and apologetic. “I’m sorry. We can still have those things, I promise. Just, you know, after…”

“Why can’t your parents take them? Or Jon? Or Sansa?” Theon’s fully aware that he’s really only sounding petulant at this point, but all he’d wanted from Halloween was to watch scary movies, eat his own body weight in chocolate, and, yeah, okay, indulge in a bit of oral sex. Not necessarily in that order. Was that too much to ask?

Robb sighs. “Sansa’s class is having a Halloween dance. She’s been looking forward to it for weeks, I can’t make her miss it. Ygritte came by an hour ago and dragged Jon out to some horror film festival. And Mum and Dad are going to Robert’s big party, and you know he won’t let them leave until Dad’s had a beer or two and they’ve reminisced about old times…”

“So they might not get home until next week,” Theon finishes, rolling his eyes. Damn Robert and his crazy parties, and damn Ned and his perfectly straight edge. Robb smiles and shrugs.

“Yeah. So it has to be me… but I was hoping you’d come along?” he adds hopefully. “It’ll be way more fun with you there, Theon.”

Theon exhales in resignation. Really, he’d known from the moment he’d seen Robb in his ridiculous outfit that he’d get dragged into whatever he was planning. “Well, I guess I am already here,” he says – but then he frowns as a thought strikes him. “Hang on, I don’t have a costume.”

Robb just beams at him, that smile that still does funny things to Theon’s insides, and replies, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s not like you’re the one trick-or-treating. It’ll be fine.”

Theon’s still not completely reassured, but Robb doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Sticking his head back through the doorframe, he yells, “Come on guys, or all the good sweets will be gone!” 

There’s the scurrying of little feet, and then Bran, Arya and Rickon all spill out the door into the front yard. Theon has to commend them on their speed – after all, the sooner they get this over with, the sooner he and Robb can move on to their real plans for the night. 

“Everyone ready? Got all you need?” Robb asks them, and Theon takes the moment to run an appraising eye over their costumes. 

Bran’s is easy to identify – he’s a knight, same as always. Arya’s looks vaguely familiar too, though he can’t quite place it. 

“Not a ninja this time then?” he asks, referring to her costume from last Halloween. Personally he thinks it’s a wise decision – the year before there had been a street party, and while nobody knows quite what happened, from all reports there had been some kind of altercation. It had involved a bunch of teenage boys who were stealing the younger kids’ sweets, and all of them had ended up with mysterious injuries, consistent with those that might be inflicted by a skinny, blunt sword. The boys had never actually blamed Arya – Theon suspects that’s because they didn’t want to admit they got beaten up by a little girl – but Theon is still glad to see that her costume is weapon-free this year.

“No,” Arya replies glumly. “Sansa wanted to go as a Disney princess to her stupid dance, and Mum said that I should get my outfit from the same place.” She pouts a little, clearly still feeling the gross injustice of this, but then her face clears. “Luckily I found this Mulan costume before Mum could make me stupid Snow White or something. Mulan saved China, you know, and she didn’t do it for a stupid prince either. _And_ I get a sword!” 

She pulls the plastic blade out from behind her and swings it happily. Quickly stepping out of range, Theon has to laugh – so much for no weapons.

He turns to Robb, who is kneeling on the ground fixing Rickon’s costume. The youngest Stark seems to just be dressed in fuzzy footie pyjamas, with a golden crown sitting crooked on his head, and Theon doesn’t get it at all. 

“Who’s he meant to be?” he asks Robb, but it’s Rickon who answers.

“I’m Max, king of the wild things!” he proclaims, before letting out a loud roar and stamping his feet. 

Robb just smiles and stands. “He loves that book,” he tells Theon. “I don’t know why.”

Turning back to his siblings, he claps his hands together once and instantly commands their attention. “Okay guys, we’re all set. Let’s go!”

The three kids immediately race down the path through the Starks’ front garden, cleverly dodging the pumpkins and fake cobwebs it’s been strewn with for the occasion. Robb reaches out his hand for Theon’s and, twining their fingers together, they follow along behind as Arya, Bran and Rickon spill out onto the footpath and instantly mingle with all the other tiny monsters.

Following the procession of toilet-paper mummies and bedsheet ghosts, they reach their first house in no time. Knocking loudly, the kids all chant _trick or treat_ as an old lady opens the door. 

Smiling widely at them, she praises each of their outfits in turn, and even tells Arya how nice it is to see a young lady dressed as a warrior for a change. She’s just pouring sweets into their outstretched treat bags when she catches sight of Theon. 

Frowning a little, as if politely confused, she asks, “And what are you supposed to be?”

Taken slightly aback, Theon shoots a look at Robb – half reproachful, half _I told you so_ – before answering. “I’m a werewolf.”

The woman crosses her arms, her frown deepening. “Aren’t werewolves supposed to have fur? And claws, and fangs? You know, like a _wolf_?”

Theon just shrugs. “Only at the full moon.”

It’s barely even dusk, but the moon already hangs low in the sky. It’s just a little sliver of white in the darkening blue, and when the lady sees it she bursts into laughter.

“Oh, that’s a good one, boy,” she says, grinning, and tosses Theon a chocolate bar with surprising agility for someone of her age.

Tucking it into his front pocket, Theon replies, “Uh, thanks.”

Shaking her head and chucking, the woman drops one last mint into Bran, Arya and Rickon’s treat bags before waving them off her front porch.

Returning to the street, they head to the next house, and then the next. And as they make their rounds of the neighbourhood, it becomes increasingly apparent that Robb was wrong. The nice old lady was just the start. While a lot of people don’t even look Theon’s way – simply dole out the sweets and shut the door in their faces – just as many want to know exactly where his costume is, and why he hasn’t got into the Halloween spirit with the rest of them. 

The werewolf joke gets stale pretty quickly, so he has to think of some new lines. ( _“I’m a pre-mortem ghost.” “I’m a modern-day pirate – I only steal songs from the internet.” “I’m a man – and really, aren’t we the real monsters?”_ )

The reaction he gets varies from amusement to disdain, but it makes Robb laugh so Theon doesn’t give a fuck what anybody else thinks. All three kids are ecstatic, probably because they’re each carrying about a tonne of sweets, Robb’s hand is warm and steady in his, and Theon finds himself surprised by what a good night he’s had. It’s been so good, in fact, and he’s in such a good mood that when Rickon starts to lag behind as they walk home, Theon doesn’t even hesitate before sweeping him up and planting him firmly on his shoulders.

Rickon stays there, happily kicking his heels against Theon’s chest, until they get back to the Starks’. With Robb’s help Theon lifts him and sets him down in the foyer, where Bran is already kicking off his boots and Arya is stashing her sword in the umbrella stand.

“Hey,” Robb says loudly, and all his siblings pause and turn to him. “You remember our deal, right? I took you trick-or-treating, so now you can go off and eat your sweets until you’re sick – but you have to leave Theon and me in peace, okay? If you come and interrupt us, the house had better be burning down, because otherwise I am going to take all your sweets and eat them myself.”

He shoots a meaningful look at Arya, Bran and Rickon in turn, and they all nod furiously, clutching their treat bags tight. Without another word they run off, disappearing into the house, and Theon turns to smile slyly at Robb.

“So there was a point to taking them after all, huh?”

“Looks that way.” Robb grins. “Does that mean it was worth it?”

“Maybe,” Theon allows. Taking a step towards Robb, he ruffles his fingers through Robb’s carefully styled hair until it looks vaguely normal again. “Although, don’t need a costume, my ass.”

“Oh, shut up,” Robb says fondly. Hooking his fingers in Theon’s belt loops, he tugs him closer, and lets out a bark of surprised laughter when he feels something hard and long bump against his leg. “Is that a chocolate bar in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he asks, amused.

“Can’t it be both?” Theon murmurs, voice husky, and leans in to kiss him.

Robb’s mouth tastes sweet as sugar, and Theon lets himself get lost in it, giving himself over to every press of lips, every sweep of tongue. Finally Robb pulls away, drops a short line of kisses down Theon’s neck before scraping his teeth over the pulse point, just once. Drawing back to look at the slight mark he left, Robb has to laugh.

“You could have had a costume after all, you know. All I’d have had to do was kiss your throat at every door and you could have been my victim. It totally looks like I’ve been sucking your blood.”

“Yes, well.” Theon smooths his palms up Robb’s arms and over his shoulders, moving in close again as his fingers catch in the clasp of Robb’s cape. “Maybe if we just lose the costumes altogether that won’t be the only thing that gets sucked tonight.”

Robb grins, and the cape drops to the floor.


End file.
